


At 2am

by angelinthecity



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: CMBYN press tour, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Denial of Feelings, M/M, Mutual Pining, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vanity Fair Oscar party, and sort of fluff, sort of angst, with sort of happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 11:32:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15314574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelinthecity/pseuds/angelinthecity
Summary: Snapshots from the 2018 press tour for the film Call Me By Your Name. The boys are trying to be good despite the feelings bubbling under the surface.Each chapter has a link to an accompanying gifset posted on my tumblr.Disclaimer: by definition, this RPF ficlet is a work of pure fiction. And also, I own absolutely nothing.[COMPLETE as of July 16, 2018]





	1. Palm Springs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The desert heat of Palm Springs means heated moments by the pool.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifset for illustration on tumblr: [Chapter 1: Palm Springs](http://angel-in-new-york-city.tumblr.com/post/175148037080/rpf-armie-x-timmy-at-2am-chapter-1-palm)

**Palm Springs, early January, 2018**

It’s 2am. Timmy gazes into the warm, dark night on the patio of their rented complex, and assumes the rest of their sprawling group has already gone to bed after the long night, when he hears his name being called.

“Hey Tim, come here, you’ve gotta get in, too!”

Timmy pads barefoot to the pool area and smiles, shaking his head in disbelief when he sees Armie in the pool alone, still wearing his clothes from the awards ceremony.

“Looks like someone’s been, umm, inspired by all the champagne they had tonight. Or was it whiskey?”

“What, you’ve changed already? Come on dude, live a little!”

Armie was clearly in a good mood.

“Yeah man, I wish I could afford to ruin suits after one wear, but I’m not exactly rolling in money like you movie stars.”

“Well, there was only one star there tonight and that was you, Tim.”

Timmy blushes faintly.

“Oh come on, everyone was telling you that all night and you even got the award for it, so.”

Timmy doesn’t say that it feels a whole world different when it’s Armie saying it. Everyone else seems to be just doing their job or joining the game of loudly supporting the newest rising star, but Armie has been telling him stuff like that from the moment they met; when practically no one knew his name.

“I managed to secure more champagne before the housekeeper left, so hop in, the party’s just getting started.”

“But I thought everyone was asleep already..?”

“Yeah, they probably are. But I’m here, aren’t I?” Armie smiles and swims to the edge of the pool to grab his drink. “So we have the whole night to ourselves.”

A whole night with him – yeah, Timmy would not object to that, but he knows that Armie doesn’t mean even remotely the same thing that has just flashed through Timmy’s own mind. What Armie means is innocent. Just bros. Friendly. Platonic.

So Timmy has to stop looking at how his white dress shirt is now see-thru and clinging to his wet skin. And how his eyelashes are glistening with water drops. And how he’d like nothing better than look into his eyes, reach for his dripping wet bowtie, slowly pulling it open, and then some.

Timmy rolls up the cuffs of his sweatpants and lowers himself to sit on the edge of the pool, dangling his feet in the water next to Armie.

“Okay, I’ll humor you this much, but only because you’ve been so nice to me through this whole crazy journey,” Timmy says half-kidding, half not.

“Nice? How could I have been anything else when you’ve beared with my annoying ass all year.”

It always breaks Timmy’s heart to see Armie putting himself down because there is absolutely no reason to.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I’ve lo-, liked having your ass around all year. I barely know what to do with myself when I’m back home and you’re out here. Like, why do you think you can’t keep me away from your house?”

“I thought it was because of the never-ending stash of pistachios.”

Armie is joking, but something’s shifted in his eyes and there’s a glint there that simultaneously makes Timmy uneasy and yet makes it impossible to look away. Timmy tries to deflect, frustrated that despite all his efforts, his heart has just skipped a beat.

“Oh, a never-ending stash of something, for sure.”

“Ha. Although, I guarantee you that after this press tour is over and your career takes off like a rocket, I’ll only see you on magazine covers, or on talk shows, making the rounds discussing your latest high-profile projects.”

Timmy’s naturally affectionate with people, but with Armie he has to hold back, because with him, every touch would always mean more than what he would want anyone, Armie included, to catch on. He usually embraces people liberally, but even hugging Armie tends to turn awkward, because he is so careful about not giving too much away that he often ends up overcorrecting, and then it’s all angular arms everywhere and nervous pats on the back.

However, Timmy has not exactly turned down any drink offers tonight himself either, so fueled by the remaining alcohol in his blood, he now lets his hand touch Armie’s cheek softly, because he doesn’t know how else to emphasize his objection to them losing their connection.

“You know very well that that won’t be true.”

It’s Armie’s turn to blush, and his cheek changes its color to rosy where Timmy’s palm had lightly caressed it. Seemingly flustered by his own reaction, Armie lowers his eyes and stares at the rippling water. He’s still in the pool, fully clothed, and now his fingers gently curl around Timmy’s bare ankle underwater and his thumb strokes delicately the smooth skin on the top of his foot. He looks up.

“Do I?”

Suddenly the air feels so thick that you could cut it with a knife. His fingers are only touching his foot, but Timmy feels the tingles all the way up his spine. Has the night somehow gotten warmer? Are his eyes always this blue? 

For fear that he’ll soon say or do something that they’ll both regret in the morning, Timmy bites his lip and gets up.

“Umm, of course. There’s no getting rid of me. But you know, I think I’m gonna go and try to get some sleep now. I mean, we still have interviews and stuff scheduled for tomorrow. Goodnight, Armie.”

Timmy walks back inside, leaving a trail of waterdrops on the tiles, and closes the patio door behind him before slumping against it.

_Fuck._

This promo tour is definitely not getting any easier.

 

*

 

In the pool, Armie is similarly cursing himself and rubs his face with his wet palm, frustrated. He has been so good until now.

He has figured out from very early on that Timmy feels even more for him than his exuberant words let on – honestly, the boy’s face is so expressive that anyone with eyes could see that he worships him. Yet, Armie only feels protective of him, and only loves him like a goofy, sweet little brother that he’s unbelievably proud of.

At least most of the time.

Because obviously there are times when he gets caught up with the curve of his lips when he speaks. Or the way his hair curls at the neck, and the memory of what it had felt like when he had grabbed it during filming, and the thought of whether it would _feel different now that it had grown longer_. Or how Timmy breaks into an infectious smile so easily whenever he catches Armie looking at him.

It doesn’t mean anything though, really. If anything, it helps their job of promoting the movie because a lot of it leans on them selling their chemistry to the public.

That’s what Armie tells himself and he believes it. Most of the time.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are warmly appreciated! Come say hi also on tumblr: [angel-in-new-york-city](http://angel-in-new-york-city.tumblr.com)


	2. Paris

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The promo tour reaches the capital of France and we all know that Paris does things to people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifset for illustration on tumblr: [Chapter 2: Paris](http://angel-in-new-york-city.tumblr.com/post/175341688410/rpf-armie-x-timmy-at-2am-chapter-2-paris-late)

**Paris, late January, 2018**

 

It’s 2am. Armie stands at the window, the nighttime noises of Paris echoing from the street far below him. It has been a long couple of days: the premiere of their film, followed by an interview after an interview with the French media outlets, followed by late dinners such as the one tonight. 

Armie thinks about Timmy being on the other side of the wall, in the hotel room next to his, probably unbuttoning his sweater at that very moment. In the morning, when Timmy had emerged at the hotel breakfast, Armie had complimented him saying he looked “ _very nice and very French_ ” in it.

He had only replied “ _thanks, man_ ” with a little laugh, and Armie doesn’t know how much Timmy had wished he could have said “ _I only wore it so you could take it off_ ”. But obviously that was out of the question.

Armie groans to himself thinking back to the car ride back from the dinner and rubs his face, frustrated. He really should have held his tongue; hopefully he hasn’t made things weird between him and Timmy now. He doesn’t know why exactly he had said anything out loud, but Timmy has that effect on him, feeling like he has a permission to feel and express anything without any fear of judgment.

“It’s just that up until now, it’s been like you’ve always put such trust in me, expecting me to be the one to take the lead in all events and press stuff – although for the love of god I don’t know why. You really wouldn’t need to; you’re already handling these things better than I ever have." 

Armie had paused briefly, shaking his head in wonderment. 

"But anyway, here, you are suddenly so in your element, and like, being in charge and taking care of me when I don’t understand a thing that they are saying. And somehow… I don’t know, that’s just, you know, um, been intriguing, I guess,” Armie had admitted bashfully.

Armie knows that maybe it hadn’t sounded like much to anyone else when he had said it like that, but he also knows what he had actually meant by it and what kind of thoughts he has been having these past days. He had been grateful for the darkness in the car, preventing Timmy from seeing his expression in too much detail.

Seeing Timmy so confidently take the reins in all the French events; having him naturally step up and look after him and make sure Armie always feels included even when he doesn’t understand the language; feeling like Timmy is suddenly the one totally in control. Yes, all that has been unexpectedly _intriguing_ for sure. Any remnants of seeing him as a little brother were definitely gone for good, because no one would imagine their brother taking them to back to the hotel suite and…

Yeah, he’d better stop now before this gets out of hand. He needs to be able to look Timmy in the face in the morning again.

 _It will be fine_ , Armie tries to convince himself. Timmy surely did not pick up on anything out of the ordinary. 

And at least he hadn’t confessed to his momentary blackout during one of the interviews, when his eyes had dropped to Timmy’s waist while he had been discussing the wardrobe used in the film. At that point Armie had suddenly started wondering what kind of a sound he could have elicited from Timmy back then, if he had slowly slid his fingers underneath the waistband of those godforsaken shorts that Timmy is now talking to the reporter about.

Because there had been that one night in Crema. 

The night before the garden scene, when they had been going over the scene on their own, trying to find alternative versions of the scene to offer at the shoot the next day. Sitting facing each other on a bench at Armie’s apartment, legs intertwined as the direction on the page had been, Timmy had been carrying out variations of Elio’s dialogue while Armie had tried to come up with various ways for Oliver to distract him by kissing his neck and caressing his thighs, arms, back.

In one iteration Armie had had his hands under Timmy’s shirt, his lips tenderly traveling across Timmy’s neck, while Elio was asking why Oliver had not given him a sign. When his fingernails had slowly raked across the smooth skin on Timmy’s back, following his spine all the way down to his lower back and to the edge of the waistband of his shorts, Timmy had quietly moaned in his ear with such subtlety and yet conviction that it had almost sounded real.

Real or not, it had done _things_ to Armie and he had had to doubly concentrate on the fact that this was make-believe and that he had to be professional in spite of all the vulnerability they were offering each other, and perhaps exactly _because_ of it.

So when they had been shooting the scene the next day, he had kept his hands strictly over clothing, just in case, and played up the playfulness of the scene instead. And tried his best to ignore it when Timmy’s slender fingers had briefly pushed up into his shorts, brushing the skin on his thighs.

Startled by the sound of an ambulance speeding by on the Parisian street now, Armie shakes himself out of the rehashing of the day. A lot of things had left him confused today, but he’ll just pretend he never said anything to Timmy about him seeming different on the French territory. And he had been so vague anyway that he’d be surprised if Timmy had even read anything into it.

It’ll be fine.

Paris does things to people; everything will be back to normal when they get back to the States.

Right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are warmly appreciated! Come say hi also on tumblr: [angel-in-new-york-city](http://angel-in-new-york-city.tumblr.com)


	3. Beverly Hills

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time for the last event of the award season and along with champagne, feelings start to spill over on the most important night in Hollywood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifset for illustration on tumblr: [Chapter 3: Beverly Hills](http://angel-in-new-york-city.tumblr.com/post/175580768490/rpf-armie-x-timmy-at-2am-chapter-3-beverly)

**Beverly Hills, early March, 2018**

 

It’s 2am. Timmy is drunk, probably more than he should be, he thinks to himself. The last and most important stop of the awards season, the Oscars telecast, has wrapped up, they have already stopped at the traditional Governor’s Ball after that, and are now headed to the glitzy Vanity Fair after party.

The “ _Where are you guys??_ ” text from Armie arrives the moment they step out of the car. When his name flashes on the screen of his phone, Timmy feels a tiny jolt of electricity as usual. Still. Every single time.

It seems that their driver has dropped them off at the wrong spot on the Santa Monica Boulevard and now they are lost, so Timmy FaceTimes Armie back for instructions how to find the others and the entrance to the party. 

To be honest, Timmy continues to feel somewhat lost the entire evening while mingling in the crowds filled with faces after faces he technically knows, but doesn’t _really_ know.

Until he’s finally alone with Armie and he can stop with all the pretense.

They manage to escape the loud ballroom, breathing in the night air in a small, secluded corner of the City Hall garden in the back.

“I could never get used to this,” Timmy exhales with a sigh, mixed with momentary relief. “How do you not get overwhelmed, running in these circles?”

“Well, after a short while –surprisingly short, really–, you realize that they all are very ordinary, normal, flawed people. Even the ones walking around with the statues back there. Perhaps especially those. And I mean, really, you have no reason to be intimidated. In my books, you’re way more special than any of them, truly a once-in-a-generation talent compared to those dime-in-a-dozen faces.”

Armie is very much drunk on the champagne too, as his still-recuperating, dehydrated body has not held it as well as usual, but this is nothing he has not said before, sober. 

Still, there is an extra layer of affection in his voice now. Timmy assumes that he’s probably just sentimental about the era that was now ending for them, but it throws him off a little bit, nevertheless, and Timmy tries to decipher whether he is perhaps just so buzzed himself that he’s imagining things. 

There have been moments, as Timmy calls them, during their press tour where he isn’t sure if Armie’s eyes look back at him with a tiny hint of the same want that bubbles in his own veins. But the moments always seem to be gone as soon as he starts to analyze or grab a hold of them, and then it’s like nothing had happened.

“I mean, even tonight, you’re a fucking angelic apparition in that suit to begin with,” Armie gestures towards him and smiles fondly. “You’re barely even real anymore, very close to crossing over to the surreal category with your cherub curls and all.”

Well, this is new, and no, Timmy is definitely not making it up. He’s been proud of how well he’s kept his feelings at bay throughout the promo tour, but now he’s slightly afraid that he might not be able to if this private praising continues for much longer. Or would it matter anymore even if he didn’t? If everything was coming to an end anyway?

“Oh, come on, thanks, but you’re also like an epitome of golden Hollywood perfection yourself, Mr Hammer, with your bowtie and all.”

“Ugh, yeah, this thing, I would so much rather be without it already.”

“Right. Well, that can be easily arranged.”

Timmy reaches over and his fingers start to pull the bowtie apart. The intimacy of the gesture hits them both immediately and he glances up, only to see Armie looking into his eyes, completely still, holding his breath. Timmy smiles to dispel the weighted air and decides that he’ll blame it on the champagne talking if he ever needs to defend himself for any of this.

“Okay, that’s done now, man. If you’re looking to get rid of any more of your restrictive clothing, I’m afraid we’ll have to move somewhere else though,” he teases.

“Like your hotel? Don’t tempt me, I’m so ready to get out of here and just hang out, I mean, haven’t we made enough of an appearance by now?”

That was said with such nonchalance that Timmy does not know whether his blatant flirting has been intentionally skipped over or just gone unnoticed. He’s not sure how to read the situation anymore. Why is this so confusing?

“Sure, why not? I mean, this suit is to-die-for, but I haven’t been able to relax for a second because I’ve been afraid of spilling something all day. That’s what you get for choosing all-white, I guess, but I can’t wait to get out of this and function normally again.”

Armie looks him over slowly, biting his lip.

“Just take at least the jacket off? That way if you spill something on the shirt, you can then probably cover it up.”

Timmy tries to resist the part of his brain that immediately succumbs to the idea of taking off pieces of clothing just because Armie tells him to. But it _is_ a warm night and a light breeze might do him good.

“See?” Armie nods with an I-told-you-so look when Timmy drapes his jacket over the back of the nearest bench and takes a deep, relaxed breath.

“Now, you do know that the next logical step would be to take your shirt off, right? I’m sure we’d have a gaggle of people running here from inside if the word got out that the award season sensation was here, shirtless.”

Timmy knows Armie likes teasing him because he’s such an easy target. Like clockwork, Timmy can’t help but blush.

“You’re an idiot, man.”

“Oh, I’ve been in close proximity to you when you’re shirtless, and let me tell you, Tim, anyone coming over would not be disappointed.”

Armie slips his hand on Timmy’s left hip and smirks.

“Want me to prove it to you?”

He starts to slowly pull the hem of Timmy’s shirt from where it has been tucked in. Timmy feels his large, warm hand on his body and an occasional brush of his fingers on his bare skin under the shirt. He doesn’t know what in the world is actually happening right now, but he has no intention of stopping it.

Armie’s warm palm is now on his waist, under his shirt, then sliding slowly to his back and suddenly it looks like Armie has forgotten his initial point, because now he is pulling Timmy flush against himself and Timmy is not exactly resisting.

Instead, he wraps his arms loosely up around Armie’s neck, his fingers gently curling to caress the back of his neck. Armie leans down and now his breath is hot on Timmy’s skin, his lips lightly skimming Timmy’s throat. Timmy’s fingers have slipped into Armie’s hair and his grip tightens.

The touches feel warm and familiar, like homecoming after months and months of cruel absence. Yet, doing this without a camera lens a few feet away from them is definitely new.

“What are we doing?” Timmy whispers into Armie’s ear, his heart beating a million times a minute.

“I don’t know; what do you want us to be doing?” Armie whispers back and even without seeing his face, Timmy can hear from his voice that he’s smiling.

Armie pulls back and his eyes are almost black instead of blue and they are now fixated on Timmy’s lips. His thumb skims over the lower lip and Timmy opens his mouth as if on cue.

And then:

“ _Hey guys, are you down here?_ ”

Someone calls for them from behind the large topiary trees, startling them. Timmy pulls away quickly and Armie watches him frantically push his shirt back into his dress pants and grab his jacket from the bench.

“ _We need you guys to come back in, the photographer wants to take your picture together._ ”

They head back inside, Timmy haphazardly pulling his jacket back on as they go. As they ascend on the crowded steps back into the ballroom, Armie whispers from behind him:

“To be continued..?”

Timmy stops in his tracks, turns around in a swivel. Seeing the blissed-out expression still on Armie’s face despite him bravely trying to conceal it, Timmy’s lips curve into a surprised smile and with the tiniest nod, almost imperceptible to anyone else, he says:

“To be continued.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are warmly appreciated! Come say hi also on tumblr: [angel-in-new-york-city](http://angel-in-new-york-city.tumblr.com)


	4. Austin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The press tour and award season are officially over, but neither of the boys wants to let each other go.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gifset for illustration on tumblr: [Chapter 4: Austin](http://angel-in-new-york-city.tumblr.com/post/175820166695/rpf-armie-x-timmy-at-2am-chapter-4-4-austin)

**Austin, mid-March, 2018**

 

It’s 2am and they are all in the car. Timmy has hooked up his phone to the car speaker, which means that they are listening to Frank Ocean, as usual. Armie is driving the rental car, which, on the other hand, is not usual. Especially since they are coming back from Armie’s premiere, followed by a group dinner, followed by stops at more than one of the best bars in Austin. 

However, tonight Armie has hardly touched anything but water, and since he has been his usual loud, enthusiastic self, no one has really paid enough attention to notice. Except Timmy.

Timmy had gotten the phone call the morning after the Oscars. _We’re going to Austin for the film festival thing, wanna come? I would need someone to present this award to me, would you please do it?_

They hadn’t had any chances to be alone since the _almost_ moment in the garden at the Vanity Fair party. Timmy still isn’t sure if Armie had really meant it when he had suggested he had wanted to…continue, and what that would even mean, really. But Timmy had said yes on the phone, and by early Thursday morning, he was on a flight to Texas. 

Back at the hotel, most of them now want to go straight up to their rooms, but Timmy says he doesn’t feel like sleeping yet and will probably just have a night cap at the bar and catch up on his emails. _Yes, yes, they can go, he’ll be fine, he’ll see them in the morning._

When the others head to the elevators, Timmy glances at Armie, as if waiting for something, anything.

“So goodnight then, I guess.”

Armie looks at him and nods with a look that floats somewhere between hesitant and resigned. 

“Goodnight.”

The bar is a stereotypical hotel bar, with dark wood paneling. Thankfully, it is also half empty, and Timmy orders a beer and opens his phone. He scrolls through the emails that have lately started to flood his inbox at an increasing rate, but doesn’t really concentrate on any of them.

Having feelings for your married co-star/best friend isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, Timmy thinks to himself sarcastically. He knows he is already in way over his head and the best thing to do would be to extract himself from the whole situation. After all, there are no professional requirements for them to be around each other anymore. And yet, here he is, sitting in Austin, Texas, hoping for any stolen moments that might come his way. 

But thus far, there has been no indication of anything out of the ordinary. At the film festival events and now at the premiere they have been constantly surrounded by either cameras or big groups of people or both, and that has meant no secret touches, no stolen glances. Or maybe it had been just a one-time slip-up for Armie: fueled by the nostalgia for their journey together and the champagne and the adrenaline of the big night. Maybe once he had sobered up, he had come to his senses.

Having barely touched his beer, Timmy decides to head upstairs to his room. 

He throws his phone on the bed and walks to the window to watch the twinkling lights of the city in the distance. Scratching the back of his neck absent-mindedly, he groans, frustrated with himself. Maybe he shouldn’t have come here after all. Maybe it’s time to just bury, once and for all, the thoughts that he has had ever since he first met him. Think of him as the friend that he ostensibly is.

But how exactly do people do that? How do you convert two years’ worth of excitement into mundane, platonic memories, when you are so enchanted with someone that exhilaration has colored every moment you have spent with them? 

Timmy’s soul-searching is interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Yes?”

“It’s me.”

 _Of course it is_. Timmy shakes his head in disbelief. He’s already given him these two days in Texas when he could have been back home; what more could he possibly want?

Timmy opens the door.

“What’s going on, everything okay?”

“Well, I just realized I didn’t get to kiss you goodnight.”

Armie looks him straight in the eyes, waiting for his words to register.

Timmy’s brain understands all those words individually, but as a complete sentence, they don’t really make sense to him. Or they do, but does he really mean..? At the end of his thought process, Timmy is still slightly confused but his lips curve into a hesitant smile.

“I went down to the bar but you weren’t there, so I… Can I come in?”

Timmy nods and Armie closes the door behind him. Timmy keeps standing still, so Armie has to be the one to close the distance between them.

He sees a series of emotions flashing over Timmy’s face: hope, want, confusion, lust, vulnerability, and the same bottomless affection he’s seen in Timmy’s eyes pretty much for as long as he can remember. It has taken Armie much longer to come to terms with his own feelings and he can’t say that he isn’t still struggling with them.  

He only knows that ever since Timmy melted so willingly under his touch at the Vanity Fair party, he has been counting the hours until he would get to be alone with him again. The past two days have been agony, being so close to him and yet having to pretend normalcy because of everyone else.

“Can I kiss you?”

Timmy has heard those words from him before, in the same low voice, and oh, how he had wished back then that they had been directed at him and not Elio. Now that they are, he doesn’t know what to say. Elio’s answer doesn’t even begin to describe how he wants to reply.

“You know, I’ve pictured this moment in my head a million times,” he says instead.

Armie has seen Timmy looking at his face, his eyes often lingering on his lips longer than what could be considered casual, but hearing him actually say that still makes Armie’s heart beat faster.

“You have?”

“Mmhmm.”

Timmy places his hand on Armie’s chest and his fingers play with the soft fabric of Armie’s t-shirt. Armie smiles and wraps his arms low around Timmy’s waist, pulling him to his embrace.

“So tell me what happens.”

“Well, let me see… There have been different scenarios, and the location has been everything from London to Paris, to New York, to LA. But it’s usually late at night, like this, and in a hotel room–”

“Like this,” Armie finishes his sentence.

“Yeah. And I’m always surprised but happy – like now,” Timmy lifts his gaze and smiles up at Armie through his dark lashes, scrunching up his nose a little as he always does when he doesn’t quite know how to contain his emotions.

“And I always ask you the same thing?”

“Yes.”

“And how do you answer?”

Timmy feels like his heart is surely going to burst out of his chest any moment now.

“Ask me again.”

“Can I kiss you?” Armie whispers barely audibly, playing along.

“Kiss me senseless,” Timmy sighs right into his mouth, crashing his lips onto his, having waited for so long and not willing to wait a second longer.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments are warmly appreciated! Come say hi also on tumblr: [angel-in-new-york-city](http://angel-in-new-york-city.tumblr.com)


End file.
